The Cat and the Doctor
by aradian nights
Summary: The Doctor wanders into Braavos one night, and hears a song about the Cat of the Canals.


**The **_Cat_** and the **_Doctor_

The canals were beautiful, that was true enough. The Doctor had been impressed with Braavos, taking time to examine the architecture, running his hands over the grey stony walls, but in his mind he was back in Venice, back to when he was still whole… with the girl who waited and the last centurion, still young and innocent. He had not ruined them then, no… they were still new and shiny and in love, and _alive_.

A song drifted to him then, a slow dirge that thrummed with sorrow and hissed mystery. The Doctor half listened as he stepped into the alehouse where the song was wandering from.

"… _and you will tremble in your boots when you feel her breath upon your ear; her words are her gift, the song of a god who you praise and you fear_…"

The Doctor crept closer, but no matter how quiet he was, he drew attention from all eyes. He did not blend in here, not with his tweed jacket, and his classically cool bowtie, which he had a feeling did not exist on this planet. He'd have to change into something a bit more medieval if he planned on staying in Braavos… oh, who was he kidding? He wouldn't attempt to blend in unless he saw some fun in it, and no one here dressed in a particularly cool way.

"'_Oh, have mercy!' you cry, her blade of winter freezing on your throat. She pauses her judgment, and she tosses you into the water to see if you will float_."

The Doctor felt himself drawn to the song, and he fell into the spectators. The singer was a boy, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, his hair shaggy and black, and his face solemn. His skin was sun-kissed, and but toned well enough, and his eyes were as dark as his hair.

"_You drag yourself all sopping wet from the depths of your sinking morale, and in the darkness you can see her eyes; the gleaming, icy eyes of Cat of the Canals_."

The Doctor clapped along with the crowd, and he noticed how they grinned, and nodded, as if they'd heard this song many times before. He thought that perhaps this Cat of the Canals was a great scary myth, a woman like his River Song who was full of spunk and inspired terror with the sound of her name.

"Did that really happen, Fyrrari?" asked a barmaid, her eyes wide with awe. "Did the cat really attack you?"

Fyrrari nodded, and he set his lyre down at his feet. "She's fearsome, I'll tell you!" Fyrarri cracked a smile up at the barmaid, and he shook his head. "But she didn't kill me. I guess she got the wrong person, or she decided not to at the last minute."

"Excuse me!" The Doctor had been silent for far too long, and his arm shot into the air. Every eye turned to him, and he smiled brightly. "Hello, I'm new here, and I'm really quite curious. Who is this Cat of the Canals? Does everyone know her? Is Cat her name, or simply something people call her?"

Fyrrari laughed, as did the barmaid, and soon the entire alehouse was alive with hysterics over the Doctor's lack of knowledge. The Doctor laughed as well, wondering how he'd even come across this world. It had been a mistake, but as usual he took it in a stride. Perhaps there was someone here that needed his help. Perhaps the cat was a real threat, a slither from the planet Cathal, who had snuck through a crack in space as they sometimes did, and molded itself into the shadows of Braavos.

"Ah, I'm sorry," Fyrrari said. "I was simply surprised by you, good man. Are you from the West? You have the look of it about you."

"Oh, he does!" gasped the barmaid, her pale eyes flickering to the Doctor's face. "Are you a Westerosi sailor?"

"A trader more like," an older man barked. "Mayhaps one of them stony Dornishmen…"

"Yes, I'm from the West," the Doctor lied, sitting beside Fyrarri. It was easier to let them assume and believe something easy than it was to make something up. "So, about this cat…?"

"Oh, she's just a myth," the barmaid said, waving her hand. "Or at least she was, before Fyrrari came stumbling in with this song."

The Doctor turned his attention to Fyrrari. "Where did she come from?" The Doctor always got excited when a mystery was uncovered, so this was nothing new, but all the same he felt a tingle of anticipation. Maybe he'd find a good companion around here, a smart young detective, looking to solve this mystery of Cat.

"Some say she's Westerosi," Fyrrari said, shrugging. "I never saw her face, and even if I did, it's said that she's a Faceless Man."

"Woman," corrected a passing serving wench. She looking to the Doctor, and she winked. The Doctor blinked, and smiled awkwardly.

"A _Faceless_ Man," the Doctor said, testing out the title. "How very ominous, I must know now, who are these faceless men?"

"Assassins," Fyrrari and the barmaid said in unison. They glanced at each other, and Fyrrari laughed again. "Expensive assassins who pray to the many faced god. Their magic gives them a multitude of faces, none of them their true face."

The Doctor scoffed. "Magic? Oh, no, I don't believe that's right…" In truth, he was drawn to the idea of men changing their faces continuously, even if they were assassins… it was because, of course, his own identity as a man of many faces.

"It's true." Fyrrari leaned his back against his table. "Cat's been around for years, but she's been showing up a lot lately. Some people think she's left the Faceless Men, and that's why she's become more conspicuous."

The Doctor nodded, and asked where he could find the Faceless Men, and Fyrrari confessed the directions to the House of Black and White. He thanked both him and the barmaid, who told him her name was Ornella. He kept the song in mind as he wandered out onto the sides of the canals, whistling the tune as he walked. It only took him about a bridge and a half to figure out someone was following him, and even then, he kept walking and whistling.

He stopped to pet a stray kitten, noting that its eyes did gleam in the darkness, like Cat's had in the song. He also noted that whoever was following him was so quiet, he almost looked back to make sure the person was still there.

"You can show your face, you know," he called over his shoulder, picking up the kitten and cradling it in his arms. He smiled when he felt the person pause, and he turned around.

She was in the shadows, her face obscure, but her jerkin was too tight for her abdomen, as were her breeches for her legs. They looked to belong to a very small child. The Doctor tilted his head, and he smiled when she stepped out of the shadows.

The girl was _small_. He had expected a woman, maybe, but this was a child, a girl with a long face, dirty face, and tangled hair. Her hand was at her hip, on the pommel of a very tiny sword. He noticed her eyes were grey, and bright in the darkness, and it dawned on him rather suddenly.

"You're Cat," he whispered, combing the hair from his eyes. Oh, no, he had not been expecting this. Surely Cat was an adult at the very least, if not a malicious alien…

She drew her sword, her eyes lacking any emotional reaction to his words. "And you are dead," she said, her voice as soft and sweet as any child's, and she stepped forward.

The Doctor was not a fighter. He dropped the kitten and stumbled to the side as she lunged at him, catching his arm and tearing his tweed jacket. "Hey!" he cried, pointing a finger at her. "Do you know how hard it is to find my style in England? I mean, I suppose I could just hop back in time into the era when people liked to dress like me, but I tended to hang around there too much as a youth, and I can't risk running into myself… again."

The Doctor frowned, and he gasped as she came at him again, her feet moving swiftly against the stone. She looked as if she were dancing, her fingers twirling the sword with ease, and her body moving so fluidly, she caught the Doctor again, this time drawing blood from his side.

"Oi!" The Doctor bounced on his heels and swatted her away. "I just want to talk! There is no need for violence, Cat!"

The girl rolled her eyes, and she pointed the very tip of her little sword against his throat. "How did you know I was behind you?" she asked, her startling grey eyes looking him up and down. "I was as quiet as a shadow."

"I'm a very good listener!" The Doctor smiled a bit, holding his hands above his head. "I'm the Doctor, and I'd like to hear your story, Cat."

"I have no story," she said in a dead voice. "I am no one."

His smile grew, and he stared at her, his instincts telling him that she would not look away. Her face looked even younger now that she was up close. It appeared that she was barely a teenager… perhaps thirteen.

"Now," he said gently. "I don't believe that, Cat— may I call you Cat? You see, I hold a strong belief that everyone is someone, and you are a person, therefore you are someone, not no one, and you will never be no one, not as long as you have air in your lungs."

"That made no sense!" she snarled, taking a step forward. The wind picked up around them, and her dark hair spiraled around her head. The Doctor shrugged, and laughed, bouncing on his heels again.

"Perhaps you didn't listen hard enough! You know, nobody ever listens to me, and I don't know why, I mean, I think it's the face, don't you? This stupid face, nobody wants to listen to a goof with this face! You know who had a great face? Two regenerations ago, _he_ looked the part, all grumpy-mister— oooh, you have a nice face though, Cat, truly, you shouldn't scowl so much."

"You shouldn't talk so much!" she sneered, though her hand moved to her face anyway, her fingers brushing against her cheek. "If I were someone else, I'd have cut out your tongue already, or gutted you."

"That," the Doctor said sharply, "sounds particularly unpleasant! But, you just admitted that you were someone."

"What?" Her face scrunched in confusion. "I didn't—"

"You did." The Doctor grinned at her as she glared. "Oh, can you please put your sword somewhere else, this is very uncomfortable…"

She stared at him, her mouth opening and then closing quickly. She looked unsure, and a little frightened, and then she stepped back. The blade left his neck, and the Doctor sighed in relief.

"Thank you," he said. He glanced down at his torn jacket, and he managed a pout. "You really shouldn't attack people like that, it's rude."

"Who are you?" she asked, lowering her sword as he began to walk around, studying their surroundings. He parked the TARDIS near here, somewhere… He squinted, and he wandered into an alley. Yes, there was the TARDIS, there she was…

"Didn't I already say?" He turned to look at her, smiling when he realized she was following slowly. "I'm the Doctor. Now, Cat, who are you?"

"Cat," she said immediately. "The Doctor sounds like a title, not a name."

"It's both." She watched him, her eyes filled with distrust, and he couldn't remember the last child who had looked at him that way. He remembered the youthful face of Amelia Pond, trusting him from the very moment they met, until the very moment she fell away from him…

"You said you were from Westeros."

The Doctor turned from her, walking toward the TARDIS. "I did say that, didn't I? Hmm…" He scratched his head and stopped. "Well, I should tell you now, then! I don't always tell the truth."

"So you're not from Westeros?" She sounded angry, and the Doctor looked back at her. Her face was pale, and she was clutching her little sword so tightly he thought it had to hurt her.

"No. Are you?"

"No."

He laughed and stepped backwards toward the TARDIS. "Cat!" he sang. "Are you lying to me?"

"Shut up!" she hissed, looking around. "Just because I'm not gonna kill you, doesn't mean someone else won't!"

"Oh, let them _try_!" The Doctor stepped back, and extended his hand to her. "Do you want to go to Westeros, Cat?"

That surprised her. She stared at him, her eyes betraying her, and the Doctor nodded. "How about I take you home," he said, his hand still extended. "Is that where your parents are? I can take you to them, if you'd like."

"Why would you do that?" She eyed him with distrust, and she slipped closer to the shadows.

"Because no one deserves to be alone," he said, peering at her. "And you are not no one, are you, Cat?"

She stared at him again, and she took a step back. "I should…" She glanced behind her.

"Go?"

Cat licked her lips, and she shook her head. "I can't trust you to take me home," she said darkly. "Mayhaps you should go."

The Doctor's eyebrows rose. "Mayhaps," he said, "you should come with me."

She laughed at that, a laugh that was harsh and cold. "Are you stupid?" She raised her arm, the point of her sword sticking at his stomach. "Get going!"

"Excuse me, that hurts!" He wacked her sword away, and she stepped back. "Honestly though, at least come and see my time machine."

Her eyes flashed at him. "Time… what?" She seemed to only distrust him more because of that comment.

"Time machine. I'm a Time Lord, and I've got a flying blue box… it moves through time and space, Cat." The Doctor wanted to help her. He felt that the girl was sad and sick and tired, and he felt for her, truly, and he wanted to give her peace of mind. So he stepped toward her, his hand extending again. "I can take you to see the stars, if you'd like… if your parents don't mind, of course. I'll ask them, and then mayhaps I'll take you on a little adventure, hmm? No killing, though, I don't tolerate killing."

"You know me to be Cat of the Canals," she said, shoving her sword back into its tiny scabbard. "You know I was an assassin, a former Faceless Man, and you expect me to travel with you, see the stars and have adventures… without killing?" She rolled her eyes. "You're mad, Doctor."

"True!" He bent before her so they were eyelevel, and she watched him with a hard expression. "But aren't you mad as well, little Cat of the Canals? An assassin and a child, a girl and a legend… but certainly there is something in your life you wish you could go back and see."

"I'm not a child," she snapped, pushing him back. "And I'm nearly a woman grown, thank you!" The Doctor laughed, and he pointed to the TARDIS in the shadows.

"That's my blue box, little Cat." The Doctor did not want to ask how old she was, because it ruined the illusion that she was a child… which she was, he could tell. "I'm not usually this… lenient with children and killers, but I think I can make an exception for a clever little assassin like you."

"I'm not an assassin anymore," she said dully. "Weren't you listening?"

"Why should I listen to you if you don't listen to me, huh?" The Doctor stood up, straightening his bowtie, and he stalked off toward the TARDIS. "I tell you I have a box that travels through time! You get angry because I called you a child. I'll leave you here, Cat, if that's what you want, but…" He looked back at her, leaning against the dark blue doors. "Where's the fun in that?"

Cat approached the TARDIS tentatively, her little feet barely making a sound against the stone, and she frowned. She looked it up and down, her fingers falling against the wood, and she looked up at the Doctor, her eyes suddenly alight with curiosity.

"Anywhere?" she asked quietly. "You can take me… to the Wall? Or to the Red Keep? Can you take me specific places? Can I tell you a person, and will you take me to them, Doctor? Will you take me to my father, to my brother, to my mother? What about the Dragon Queen, can you appear in her makeshift court, and win her over, and feast with her, and make sure that she makes it to Westeros and conquers it? Will you give me a Lannister's head? What about Ser Ilyn? Ser Meryn? Dunsen and Raff the Sweetling? Can you give me revenge with your madness, and your time and space, or can you give me all of the lives I've lost, including my own?"

She spun away from him then, and she started down the side of the canal. "My parents are dead, Doctor," she called back to him. He felt his sorrow for her escalate, and he stared at her shadow as it shifted in the moonlight. "My entire family is dead, and so am I. I am no one, and you… well, if you're a Lord of Time, then I'm a Lady of Death."

"They go hand in hand, I suppose," he sighed, watching her move farther away. He thought of his other companions, the strays he picked up, who were so innocent and curious… Cat was neither of those. But she was a stray, nonetheless, a stray cat without a home or a family.

"Cat!" he shouted, ignoring the look she shot him when he stepped after her, loud and clumsy. "Let me show you how to solve your problems— without killing anyone!"

She smiled at him, and he saw that it was tight, and probably very rare. She leaned back, her arms folded across her chest, and she said, "If I look in that stupid box, will you leave me alone?"

"Yes." He watched as she moved closer, her left hand on her sword. "But if you want to stay once you see the inside, you're welcome to. It'll be quite fun, just keep your hands to yourself, and don't put too much faith in me."

"I don't have faith in anything," she said. "Except death."

The Doctor frowned at that, and he wondered why he chose this girl… she was so unlike Rose, and Martha, and Donna, and Amy… she had a resolve that reminded him a bit of Rory, though only a bit, Rory had been a good man… but in the end, he'd chosen his path.

The Doctor opened the door, and he stepped back to let Cat peer into the depths of the TARDIS. He saw her eyes light up, and the light gleamed against her slim face. She looked more like a child than ever before, and he smiled, because it was what he'd been hoping for. He waited for the words, the usual shocked exclamation, but Cat was already inside the TARDIS, her shocked words drowned by her cry of excitement.

"What is this?" she gasped, spinning to face him. "How are you doing this? Are you one of those red priests?"

"I'm the Doctor, little Cat," he said. "Not the Priest. And it's called the TARDIS."

"I—" She blew the hair from her eyes, and she ran to the console. "What do all of these do?" Cat seemed to have forgotten how much she did not trust the Doctor, and she spun to face him. "Well? Show me how this… TARDIS works!"

The Doctor grinned, and he pulled the door shut, shrugging off his torn jacket and throwing it over a rail. "Alright, Cat of the Canals!" he bellowed, flicking a lever, and he shook his head. "Hold onto your hat!"

Sometimes he'd think about how she believed herself to be no one. By her logic, he could easily call himself no one too.

But she was someone, the Cat of the Canals. And the Doctor intended to help her become that person again.

* * *

_Inspired by the fact that all of the companions (OF THE NEW SERIES) are same, personality-wise. I thought, oh, the Doctor always severely screws up his companions. I mean, they were better people for knowing him, but they were screwed over big time. I wanted to play with the idea that the Doctor actually did his job for once and FIXED a person by the end of their companionship instead of breaking them._

_**EDIT:** Guys, I'm aware of the older companions. Like, I know that they were so much better back then because there was a variety of them, and THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN COMPLAINING ABOUT. I'm sorry I didn't make that clear. This is based on New Who, because I am not an expert on the old series, and I'm not going to pretend to be. If you're going to review and comment on this, then don't ask me questions ON ANON SO I CAN'T ANSWER YOU. Anyway, I stand by my first statement, but I really only mean the new series. I can't judge the older companions very well, but I know there was a way broader spectrum of companions. Also Steven Moffat has an obvious type in women and in stories, and I blame most of my anger on him. So I hope that answers your questions, and if you have anymore PLEASE DO NOT ASK ON ANON. I will gladly answer them if you let me**.**_

_I also believe that the Doctor would have trouble accepting Arya's view on the world. He'd want to change her, to show her that you don't have to kill to survive, but no matter what happens Arya will always have a thirst for blood. I think the Doctor would follow through and put her back in Winterfell, though._

_Special notes. Fyrrari was named after 'Ferrari', which is my mother's maiden name, and it also means Blacksmith. I had the idea that Arya spared him because he reminded her of Gendry and Jon for whatever reason. Ornella is just an Italian name, but I have an aunt named Nella. Go figure. Anyway, Braavos is Venice to me, utterly and completely, so I decided to go for the Italian names._


End file.
